


Sugar

by elfindulgence (Lawnmowergirl)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Established Relationship, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), OC cameo, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Tension, Whipped Cream, ambiguous timeline, default warrior of light, inconvenient FATE spawn timing, sweat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawnmowergirl/pseuds/elfindulgence
Summary: Interruptions, fighting goobbues, and the discovery that whipped cream isn't just for hot chocolate.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in YEARS but sometimes you just have an idea, and then another idea, and the dedication and thirst to string those ideas together into something coherent. 
> 
> If anyone doesn't know who Meteor is, that's just one of the names used for the default Midlander fellow seen in the trailers. I just think he's neat! 
> 
> I've based my characterization of Haurchefant off a blend of the English localization and the Japanese version, which seems like a fairly common choice but I felt I should mention it anyway.

It typically begins when Haurchefant gives voice to a naughty train of thought, intentionally or otherwise, but this time it is a slip of the hand rather than a slip of the tongue that has the Warrior of Light and the commander of Camp Dragonhead gazing hungrily at each other, and more literally than usual.

The whipped cream smeared across Meteor's collarbone glistens in the flickering firelight and some primeval tension hangs heavy and almost cloying in the air. Haurchefant reaches out slowly, eyes ablaze, to swipe the whipped cream from his lover's skin. His touch lingers and he makes a deliberate show of licking his fingers clean. Meteor swallows thickly, unable to tear his eyes away.

There's a knock on the door.

Both men freeze, although Haurchefant, fingers still in his mouth, wiggles his eyebrows mischievously at Meteor, who stifles an undignifed snort-laugh. Their relationship is an open secret, but it would not do to be caught in a moment so intimate, so simultaneously tender and erotic it makes Meteor's chest ache.

The knock sounds again, louder this time.

“My lord, a pack of goobbues are encroaching on the southern gate,” Ser Corentiaux calls through the intercessory door, with the embarrassed, apologetic tone of a man who knows he's most likely interrupting something he would rather not dwell on.

They drain the last of their respective mugs of hot chocolate, both grumbling quietly, and gear up in a flash, trading warmth and comfort for protective steel and leather, wordlessly helping each other with the fastenings as though they've done this countless times before (which they have, but not usually with such urgency).

It's bitterly cold outside, as it has been in Coerthas these past five long, dark years, and the wind whips yesterday's snowfall into a blinding curtain. And this is probably why the goobbues are here, as Ser Corentiaux notes as the three men stride across the central courtyard towards where Ser Yaelle is briefing a group of knights and a handful of adventurers. Between their already mediocre eyesight and the weather, it's no wonder they've lost their way in their neverending search for food. Meteor feels a brief pang of pity for the creatures, but it's gone quickly as he recalls the the destruction they can – and do – so easily cause.

“...here any moment,” Ser Yaelle is saying as they approach, and she turns to face them, or more specifically Haurchefant. Her tense posture and furrowed brows relax slightly, and Meteor starts to space out slightly as they begin to speak of tactics and formations. A fair amount of it goes over his head, so he simply watches Haurchefant with fond admiration, always amazed by his beloved's ability to transform from capable, professional commander to passionate, adoring lover and back again while remaining so distinctly _himself_ at every point along the way. The sharp curve of his nose, the glint in his eyes, the way his hair falls over his brow and around his long, pointed ears.....if any of the knights or other adventurers gathered at the informal strategy meeting notice Meteor's affectionate staring, they say nothing.

“And unless the patrol schedule of Skyfire Locks has changed since last I knew,” Haurchefant is saying as he tunes back in, “We shall likely have aid from a small contingent of House Haillenarte knights coming up from the south within a quarter bell.”

Not minutes later, they're off. Despite the low visibility, the goobbues lumbering up Haldrath's March are hard to miss due to their sheer size. They loom as dark grey blobs in the falling snow that has begun to come down to meet what is already being blown around by the driving wind.

Meteor's axe makes quick work of the nearest of the creatures, even as he breaks formation almost immediately. Haurchefant notes that he must have been not paying attention again, but knows him well enough not to worry overmuch in this particular instance. Either way, he is so mesmerized by his beloved warrior's strength and skill that he is stuck still for a brief moment in spite of all his training and discipline. As he contemplates how handsome Meteor is, how selfless, how strong and brave, how genuinely, wickedly hilarious he can be in the few occasions he speaks, another of the goobbues lumbers forward to take a swipe at him. He twists himself out of the way of its noodley arm with practiced ease and gets in a quick slash while its defenses are open, but curses inwardly at his own carelessness.

Between the fresh wound and its own momentum, the goobbue is thrown off balance and staggers sideways, kicking up snow. Before it can right itself, what appears to be a furry, glittering cannonball lunges at it from just out of sight. The carbuncle – for that's what it is, Haurchefant realizes as it uncurls – strikes with its full weight, aetheric though it may be, and pushes off with a blast of wind magic. The goobbue teeters once, twice, and falls, sending a cascade of snow flying up around it. Haurchefant has to turn away to fend off another of the creatures, but he can faintly make out the carbuncle's squeaks of triumph over the howling wind as it retreats towards its summoner, a Lalafellin woman who had been passing through the area and stopped to aid in the defense.

Despite his frustration at the untimely interruption of his private moment with Meteor, Haurchefant is still able to take joy in the experience of battle, the flash of blades and the pleasant burn of muscular exertion. The knights and adventurers defending Camp Dragonhead are all fairly well-trained and well-equipped, and are at relatively little risk, but it is still enough to be a satisfying challenge. The true danger posed by the wandering goobbues is to the knights' civilian families living in the encampment, and to the food supplies.

Once the first few are felled, the rest seem to get the message and turn to trundle back south down the hill, where most of them are slain by the House Haillenarte patrol coming up from Skyfire Locks, accompanied by several more traveling adventurers.

Grinning cheerfully, Haurchefant waves to his ally knights before turning to eagerly watch Meteor wipe the sweat from his brow. Perhaps _too_ eagerly, he realizes as his gaze lingers longer than would be necessary to check that his lover is unharmed, and the thoughts that were forming in his mind in the moments before Ser Corentiaux knocked on the door to the intercessory come flooding back. Haurchefant bites his lip at the developing fantasy of Meteor spread out before him, his gorgeous, muscular body covered head to toe in whipped cream, just waiting to be licked clean and lavished with all the attention he deserves.... It's almost more than he can bear, and he has to turn both his eyes and his thoughts away lest his arousal grow further and become noticeable, but, oh, does he fair ache with _want_.

After, they return to the quiet privacy of the intercessory, because Haurchefant's personal chambers in the middle of the day would be far too obvious. Partway through the removal of armor and weapons and the brushing of snow out of eavh other's hair, Meteor gasps as Haurchefant surges forward to pull the collar of his tunic aside and lick a drop of fresh sweat from the side of his neck. A warm, firm shape against Meteor's stomach as their bodies meet indicates Haurchefant his been hard for some time already – which is an arousing enough thought in and of itself – and only seems to be getting more so as he laps up his lover's battle-sweat.

“I'll never understand why you enjoy doing that, but I definitely won't complain when it feels so good,” Meteor mumbles, head thrown back to expose his throat to Haurchefant's ministrations, and then breaks off into a moan as Haurchefant switches from licking to sucking _hard_ on exactly the right spot to make his knees go weak. He feels as much as hears Haurchefant chuckle into the crook of his neck at his reaction, fond and self-satisfied, and reaches one hand up to ruffle his soft ice-blue hair. A contented hum and a series of sweet kisses trailing up his neck and jawline are his reward, ending in a gentle nip to the shell of his ear.

“Mmm....Haurchefant...”

“Oh how I've missed you, my sweet...”

Meteor huffs out a soft laugh at this and lifts his other hand to run his fingers along the top of Haurchefant's ear, earning him a quiet gasp and a reflexive twitch of his lover's hips. It had been less than a sennight since last they had seen each other, but even that is growing to be too much time apart to stand.

Meteor silently tugs at the hem of Haurchefant's sweater, questioning, offering. And the answer he receives is a most emphatic _yes,_ as Haurchefant takes half a step back to slowly pull it over his head, with a cheeky little wiggle. No matter how many times the Warrior of Light has seen his beloved's body, he is still equally entranced. The moments flow like syrup, languid and sweet, as does Meteor's gaze. He is in the middle of tracing Haurchefant's well-honed abdominal muscles with his eyes when the man in question shivers suddenly. Whether it's from anticipation or the slight chill that always pervades every room in Coerthas is hard to be sure, but Meteor would rather not leave him wanting, either for warmth or for touch.

Meteor's tunic quickly joins Haurchefant's sweater on the floor; he's far too overcome with mounting desire for a striptease. He thinks, tongue-in-cheek, that he can only hope Haurchefant will forgive him for that, but the train of thought is lost in an instant as Haurchefant bends down to kiss him.

The angle isn't quite right at first, and Meteor has to shift to his tiptoes for a moment, but as soon as they maneuver into the right positions, it feels just lke coming home. Haurchefant's lips are thin but soft, and he kisses like it's an act of worship. The air fills with quiet hums and sighs of pleasure and affection as they open their mouths to each other.

After what seems like both an eternity and no time at all, Haurchefant backs Meteor up to the edge of the intercessory's meeting table and reluctantly breaks the kiss to lift him gently onto it. He reaches behind Meteor and when he brings his hand back into view, his fingers are covered in whipped cream from the forgotten bowl and he's grinning like a madman.

“May I?” Haurchefant asks, voice rough, as he reaches his hand towards one of Meteor's nipples, shaking slightly as he fights the urge to grind against him.

Meteor is once more struck with an overwhelming wave of affection for this ridiculous, wonderful man, who loves and desires him so much. Nodding emphatically, he grabs Haurchefant's wrist, swiftly but gently, and guides his hand.

In the face of such enthusiastic permission, Haurchefant can do nothing but give in. Eagerly, he smears the whipped cream on his fingertips across Meteor's chest. Meteor's nipples are hardened equally from arousal and the chill, and a little extra attention yields a soft groan of pleasure from him. Haurchefant smiles indulgently, gives Meteor a deceptively chaste kiss on the forehead, and spreads the rest of the whipped cream onto his sculpted pecs.

“ _Splendid_....!” Haurchefant mutters as he admires his handiwork, quiet but emphatic, eyes aflame, as he tends to do when struck with an arousing thought. From nearly the beginning, Meteor has found this habit of his oddly charming, and this time is no exception.

Half expecting Haurchefant to dive right in, Meteor is caught off guard by another kiss, deep and sensual. And when Haurchefant slides a hand into his breeches to defly stroke his rapidly hardening member, he nearly comes undone right then and there.

Haurchefant stills. “Is aught amiss, my love?” he asks softly, unsure whether his lover's sudden wriggle and clenched-shut eyes are a good or a bad sign.

Meteor laughs through his nose and shakes his head. The whipped cream is beginning to melt and slide down his chest, and it feels strange but not unpleasant. He buries both his hands in Haurchefant's hair, both to encourage him to continue and for its own sake.

Sufficiently encouraged, Haurchefant at last ducks his head to Meteor's chest to lap at the melting whipped cream, and the feeling of his warm mouth on chilled skin has Meteor's heart beating faster and faster. After he at last sucks the last of it off of one of Meteor's peaked nipples – toying with the other with the hand that isn't otherwise occupied – he draws back slowly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Delicious.”

Meteor is certain he can feel his face turning redder than ever, especially when Haurchefant grabs the dish of whipped cream off the table with one hand and pulls Meteor's breeches down to free his cock with the other. The dish is tipped, slowly, slowly, and they both watch, almost mesmerized, as the last of the whipped cream drips onto Meteor's cockhead to mingle with the precum beading at the tip.

Licking his lips, Haurchefant sinks to his knees as if in prayer. With one hand, he pulls out his own aching prick, longer and more slender than his lover's, from his trousers, with a soft groan. It's a wonder he's managed to hold out untouched for so long, and Meteor tenderly caresses his hair with one hand and the sharp planes of his cheek and jaw with the other, and he nuzzles affectionately into the touch.

“I love you,” Meteor whispers. Emotion renders his voice tremulous and fragile.

Haurchefant responds in kind, voice dripping with passion but words muffled as he presses his lips to Meteor's shaft in a series of kisses, trailing slowly upward. Finally, agonizingly, he takes Meteor into his mouth, eagerly swallowing down the mixture of whipped cream and precum that has begun to drip downwards. The soft, wet heat has Meteor's head spinning, especially when Haurchefant takes him in all the way – far enough to bury his nose in the patch of dark brown hair between Meteor's legs – before retreating slowly with a firm press of his tongue to the sensitive underside of his cock. If he wasn't sitting on the table, his knees would be giving out.

After a few more times and a gentle sucking make Meteor gasp and moan and twitch in his mouth, Haurchefant pulls off for just a moment to mutter, “You're doing so well, my dear....” voice low and husky and unsteady with pleasure, caressing his lover's sac with one hand as he continues to touch himself with the other, “so good, so very _good_...”

Meteor isn't sure what's affecting him more, the praise or the touch, but he mumbles incoherently, something that might be Haurchefant's name or might be complete gibberish. He feels himself getting close, almost embarassingly quickly, but it's been too long and it feels so wonderful and he can always make it up to Haurchefant in any number of delightful ways if he does come too soon.

The sharper-than-intended squeeze Meteor gives Haurchefant's shoulder by way of warning goes gleefully unheeded. He starts moving faster, sucking harder, using his tongue in ways that make Meteor's legs twitch and jaw clatter.

It's the moan Haurchefant releases around Meteor's cock as he strokes himself to completion that sends him plunging blissfully over the edge. In an instant he is gone, shaking and seeing stars and spilling hot and thick into Haurchefant's merciless mouth. As he crests the peak of ecstasy, Haurchefant lets up only slightly, drinking deep of his lover's release like a parched man tasting the sweetest nectar. Meteor almost turns away, suddenly and inexplicably embarrassed, but forces himself to look down at Haurchefant, who is licking him clean with the most blissful expression. Just as it's about to become too much, Haurchefant pulls away to lick his lips and smile contentedly up at Meteor, looking at him as though he hung the stars in the sky, and Meteor is overwhelmed all over again, this time not by sensation but by emotion. Without thinking, he topples forward off the edge of the table and into Haurchefant's arms to pull him into another kiss, softer this time but still full of passion.

In the evening, when everything is (hopefully) quiet and peaceful, there will be more. More time, more space, more kisses, a chance to hold each other close in sleep's embrace. But for now, this is enough.


End file.
